I'm a Fool to Kill You (14 page)

It said the body of the manger of the Beverly Hills Hotel was found in his office. The cause of death was as yet unknown, but the man was believed to have been murdered. A witness – a desk clerk – had described two men who were looking for the manager, and were believed to be the last to see him alive. They described us as two white males, one six feet tall and the other six and a half. Thankfully, there was no mention of Ava Gardner or ‘Lucy Johnson.'

In a possibly related story – it went on – a cab driver had been beaten up outside the Beverly Hills Hotel the night before and was in the hospital. The police are investigating the possibility of a connection.

‘Hey, at least your buddy Larry's got an alibi,' Jerry said.

‘It's a good thing we have a safe place to go to rent a car tomorrow,' I said.

‘Maybe I shouldn't go in with you,' Jerry said.

‘Why?'

‘There are lots of fellas six feet tall,' he said ‘but six and a half?'

He was right. Louie the dispatcher and his brother might not have minded helping me because Larry said so, but if Jerry came along and they'd been listening to the news they might not be so helpful. As it was, the mention of Larry being beaten up in connection with the manager's murder might cause a problem. But I wouldn't know that until I got to the car lot the next morning.

‘I could steal a car, Mr G.,' Jerry said. ‘Ain't done it since I was a kid, so I'd be a little rusty, but—'

‘No, no,' I said, ‘forget that. I don't want you gettin' pinched for stealing a car.'

‘What about Miss Ava?' he asked.

‘What about her?'

‘She must have a car, maybe two. Them Hollywood types always got more than one.'

‘Hey,' I said, ‘there is a garage out back, isn't there?'

He smiled, nodded and said, ‘A two-car garage.'

‘Why wouldn't she have mentioned that when we started talkin' about renting a car?' I wondered.

‘She ain't used to takin' it on the lam, Mr G.,' he said. ‘Could be she just didn't think of it.'

‘Why don't we take a look?'

‘Let's finish this hand,' he suggested.

We did.

He made gin.

‘I'm not playin' with you anymore,' I said, throwing down my cards.

It didn't work out.

We went to the garage, entered through an open side door. We took the flashlight with us, and by its light saw that Ava had two roadsters – two seaters, both of them.

‘We could take both of 'em,' Jerry said, hopefully. ‘I drive one, you drive the other.'

‘No,' I said, ‘we'll stick to the original plan. We'll go rent a car from Louie's brother in the morning.'

Jerry shined the flashlight over the cars again, gave them a long, loving look, and then followed me back to the house.

‘You tired?' I asked.

‘Naw,' he said, ‘I got first watch. I'm gonna eat some leftovers.'

‘They're all yours,' I said. ‘I'm gonna lie down on that big sofa in the living room.'

‘Don't wanna sleep in one of the beds?'

‘I don't want to get too comfortable,' I said. ‘Wake me in three hours.'

‘Not four?'

‘I wanna shower and change into some fresh clothes, then I'll take watch and you can sleep till morning.'

‘I gotta sleep on the sofa, too?'

‘No,' I said, ‘it's not big enough. You can take a bed.'

‘Thanks, Mr G.'

He grabbed the leftover deli sandwiches from the frig.

‘Enjoy,' I said, and went to lie down. I didn't realize how tired I was until I hit the sofa.

THIRTY-EIGHT

S
urprising what living in a town that never sleeps can do for you. I'd learned a long time ago to get by on naps. After three hours on that sofa, a shower in the second bathroom, and a change of clothes, I felt refreshed.

I sent Jerry to bed in one of the bedrooms, told him I'd wake him at eight a.m. That was four hours. He told me he'd made a pot of coffee, and left me a sandwich. I was surprised to find I was hungry.

I went to the kitchen, unwrapped the sandwich – brisket on a Kaiser roll – and started eating. Poured myself a cup of coffee and carried both into the living room with me. I took a peek out the front window, didn't see anything.

I sat on the sofa with my sandwich and coffee and went through my options. I could have sent Jerry and Ava to Vegas in one of the roadsters, but I really didn't know what I'd do in L.A. I wasn't a detective. I was a pit boss who was also a fixer. But most of my fixing was done in Vegas, which was my backyard. So we'd all go to Vegas, make sure Ava was safe, and then figure out what to do.

As it turned out I really only had one option. Get a car, get to Vegas.

I finished the sandwich, went to the kitchen to refill my coffee cup. I don't know how Jerry did it, but he made the best damn coffee I'd ever tasted.

I turned the radio on. There were no more reports about the manager's death. I turned it off. I thought about watching TV, but I was the one who had mentioned the shadows that could be seen from outside.

After about two hours I got hungry again. Jerry was a bad influence on me. I looked in the refrigerator and found a knish. I wondered if Jerry had been saving it for breakfast. I ate it cold. I figured if he got upset I'd make it up to him. We'd go out for breakfast after we picked up a car.

I took out the card Louie had given me. It read: USED CARS and at the bottom had an address and phone number. On the back Louie had written ‘Freddy.' That was it. From Louie's body language I assumed that everything Freddy did at his car lot was not on the up-and-up. That was fine with me. It would work to our advantage if nobody asked any questions.

I sat at the kitchen table and played solitaire by the light of the flashlight.

At seven-thirty a.m. Ava came down. She was once again wearing her terrycloth robe. She ran her hands through her hair as she entered the room.

‘How old is that coffee?' she asked.

‘Almost four hours.'

‘Good enough.'

She waved me away as I started to get up, got a cup and poured herself some coffee. Then she joined me at the table. She smelled great.

‘Jerry's sleeping peacefully,' she said. ‘I passed his room.'

‘I'm gonna wake him at eight,' I said. ‘I was gonna wake you at the same time.'

‘Then what?'

‘You guys get dressed, we go and rent a car and head for Vegas.'

‘And then what?'

‘Once I'm sure you're safe,' I said, ‘I'll try to find out what happened during those missing forty hours.'

‘How are you going to do that?' she asked. ‘Are you a detective?'

‘No, but I have a friend who is. He's a private eye named Danny Bardini, lives and works in Vegas. I'll put him on it. If anybody can find out what happened, it's him.'

That seemed to satisfy her for the moment.

‘Red Six on black seven,' she said. ‘I'll go get dressed. You want me to wake Jerry?'

‘No. I'll do it. You gotta do it carefully with the big guy. He sleeps with his .45.'

She stood up with her coffee cup.

‘Very happy to leave that to you, then,' she said. ‘On top of everything else that's gone wrong in my life, I don't want to get shot.'

I didn't blame her.

I crept into Jerry's room, stood back from the bed and called out to him, trying to wake him as gently as I could.

‘Fresh coffee,' I said to him.

He jerked his head up, but didn't go for his gun.

‘Hey, Mr G. That time already?'

‘Yep,' I said. ‘We've got coffee, but that's all. We'll get something when we go out.'

‘OK.' He sat up, put his feet on the floor.

‘Get showered and change into some of those nice clothes Ava bought you.'

He made a face.

‘They ain't my style,' he confided, ‘but I didn't wanna hurt her feelings.'

‘I don't blame you,' I said. ‘See you downstairs.'

In the morning light we were able to move about the house more normally, but continued to stay away from the windows.

Jerry came down and had some coffee. We were both sitting at the kitchen table when Ava entered, holding a gun.

‘Ava . . .' I said, warily.

‘What do you think of this, Jerry?' she asked, and handed it to him.

It was a pearl handled automatic. That was all I knew. It looked tiny in Jerry's hands.

He ejected the clip, smelled the gun, worked the slide, put the clip back.

‘Could use a cleanin', Miss Ava, but it should work.' He handed it back to her. ‘Kinda small for my taste, but it's a lady's gun.'

‘And I'm a lady,' she said. ‘It's been here in the house for a long time, since Frank first bought it for me.' She dropped it in her purse. ‘I think I'll take it with me.'

‘That's fine, Ava,' I said, ‘but do me a favor, don't take it out unless Jerry takes out his. OK?'

‘OK,' she said, ‘I won't show him mine until he shows me his.'

I was shocked to see Jerry blush.

THIRTY-NINE

W
hen Ava saw the address for the car lot we were going to she said, ‘That's not a really good neighborhood. I'm glad I have you guys – and that I'm packin' heat.' She laughed.

She directed Jerry as he drove the cab. We drove past burnt-out buildings and a collection of bums and derelicts who found us very interesting. There was also a lot of graffiti, some of which Jerry said wasn't there just for decoration.

‘Gang signs,' he said. ‘We better get done what we gotta get done, Mr G., and haul ass outta here.'

‘Agreed.'

We pulled up in front of the lot. It looked more like a junk yard than anything else.

‘Have you got money?' Ava asked me.

‘Some.'

‘Any idea how much this car's going to be?'

‘I hope it's reasonable,' I said. ‘I'm looking to rent, not buy.'

‘Here,' she said, and handed a sheaf of bills over the back of the seat. ‘Take this.'

‘How much is there?'

‘I don't know,' she said. ‘I grabbed it from my dresser as a last thought. Thousands.'

‘I better go in with ya, Mr G.,' Jerry said, eyeing the money.

I was wearing a windbreaker with an inner pocket, so I stuffed the cash inside.

‘You have to stay out here with Ava, Jerry,' I said.

‘Then take this with ya.' Jerry held out his .45.

‘I haven't gotten any better with that, Jerry,' I said. ‘I'll probably shoot my foot off.'

‘How about mine?' Ava asked, digging into her purse.

‘I'll shoot off my toe,' I said. ‘Don't worry, I'll be right back.'

‘Don't worry, he says,' I heard Ava mutter as I got out of the car.

I went through the front gates, wondering if I was going to be chased by a couple of junkyard dogs. When none appeared I kept walking. There were aisles of discarded and junked automobile parts, with a hollowed out car carcass here and there. I reached the center of one row when a man stepped out from nowhere and stopped in front of me.

‘You lookin' for somethin'?' he asked.

He was taller, thinner and about ten years younger than Louie the Dispatcher, and while Louie's hair was thinning, the guy had a mop of unruly black hair. But I could see by his features and heavy stubble that he was Louie's brother.

‘I'm lookin' for Freddy.'

‘I'm Freddy,' he said. ‘You Mr Vegas?'

‘That's me.'

‘Come on through,' he said. ‘Got a garage in the back.'

I looked around, didn't see anyone else, so I decided to follow him. We walked the rest of the aisle and came to a garage that looked like it had been made from corrugated metal. There were two large white doors that could swing out to open.

As we approached, the garage doors did open and one man appeared at each one.

Freddy kept walking, so I followed him into the garage. In the center was a vehicle completely covered by a tarp. Off to each side were similarly covered vehicles. The two men on the doors pulled them closed, and someone turned on overhead lights that bathed us in yellow. I made it four men.

‘My brother said you need a car with some kick,' Freddy said.

‘I need a car that'll get me where I'm goin',' I said. ‘It doesn't have to break any speed records.'

‘This baby will do both,' he said.

He grabbed the end of the tarp and pulled it off. I was surprised to see a red Chrysler C-300. I remembered when the car was first introduced; Chrysler called it ‘America's most powerful car.' It only had two doors, but there was a back seat.

‘Whataya think?' Freddy asked.

‘It's a beautiful machine,' I said. ‘But it's not what I need.'

‘It's what every man needs, man,' Freddy said.

The other three men closed in, standing with me in the middle. They were similar in age and build to each other – thirties to forties, with hard, round bellies pushing against their t-shirts. Freddy was the only one without that bowling ball belly, and he looked almost emaciated. There wasn't a friendly face among them.

‘Let's talk price.'

‘What are those?' I asked, waving at the other covered cars.

‘They ain't for you,' he said. ‘Twenty-five hundred, and that's a deal because my brother sentcha.'